Neverland
by a-few-of-these-verses
Summary: AU Kidlock. John Watson doesn't want to grow up. He's happy playing make believe with his brothers, but his father wants to put an end to the 'nonsense'. Late that night, Sherlock Holmes takes John and his brothers to Neverland to live the adventure.
1. Prologue

"You're going to burn, Sherlock!"

"We both know that won't happen! I'll catch you, Moriarty!"

"No you won't!"

"Ouch! Mycroft, you can't hit me with your umbrella! That hurt!"

"Shut up, Greg, and play along!"

"Boys, calm down," John said as he stepped between his younger brothers.

"But Mycroft wasn't playing fair," said Greg, pouting his lips.

"Moriarty doesn't play fair," Mycroft countered. "That's why he's a villain, right, John?"

"Well, yes," John said. Mycroft stuck his tongue out at his five-year-old brother. "But," John continued, "I don't believe that Moriarty carries around an umbrella to hit people. He doesn't like to get his hands dirty. And really, Mycroft, you're ten years old, you can't go around whacking your little brother."

"I bet Moriarty would if he had an annoying brother," mumbled Mycroft.

"I'll tell Mummy!" said Greg.

"Tattle-tale!"

"Now there's no need for that," John said. "Look what you're doing to Mrs. Hudson. Doesn't she look upset that you're fighting?"

"Sorry, Mrs. Hudson," Greg said. He walked to the St. Bernard and started scratching her behind her ears. "We didn't mean to make you sad."

"Yes, my apologies, Mrs. Hudson," said Mycroft.

"What's this about apologizing to Mrs. Hudson?" John turned around and saw his mother in the doorway.

"Greg and Mycroft had a small spat," John explained. "It's all sorted out now."

"Mycroft was Moriarty and he wasn't playing fair," Greg added.

"Ah, so you were playing Sherlock Holmes?" their mother asked. "What happened?"

"I was going to blow up the Bank of England!" Mycroft replied, "But Sherlock and John got in my way and stopped me from going through with it."

"The world is a safe place thanks to Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson," their mother smiled. "Your father and I are going out tonight, so I'm just here to say goodnight to you boys."

A pained shout and loud thud turned their heads to the door.

"Dad, are you okay?" Mycroft called.

"BOYS!" their father answered. John felt his stomach become uneasy as he heard loud footsteps go up the staircase. His father walked into the room, his bow-tie undone. "You left your toys on the stairs, and I fell!"

"Sorry, Dad," they answered in unison.

He turned to John. "John, what are you doing? Shouldn't you be studying?"

"I was just playing with Mycroft and Greg," John said. "I finished my schoolwork."

"You have a test this week."

"Yeah, but-"

"You need to stop this nonsense. It's rather silly, playing Sherlock Holmes. He doesn't exist."

"Look, if you want to teach your brothers something useful, that's alright, but you've got to stop playing make-believe. You need to grow up."

"Dad-"

"Tonight is your last night as a child. Tomorrow, you're going to start acting like a man." He turned to his wife. "Sally, are you ready?"

She nodded. "Yes, Andy. I'm just going to put the boys to bed and put Mrs. Hudson downstairs."

"Alright, well, good night, boys."

"G'night, Dad," Mycroft said, watching his father leave before hitting Greg again.

"Mycroft," their mother warned.

"Sorry, Mum."

"Greg, sweetie, you go to your room; I'll tuck you in shortly. Mycroft, if you could take Mrs. Hudson downstairs, that'd be great."

The young brothers left John's room with Mrs. Hudson, and John crawled into bed.

"It's not fair," he said quietly.

"I know, but your father has a point," his mother said, taking a seat next to him.

"I like being young!"

"But you can't act like a child forever. Nobody can. John, dear, you're going to have to grow up."

"I want to have adventures, Mum."

"I know you do, but you'll have grown up adventures. Now go to sleep. Your father and I will see you in the morning."

John lay down against his pillow and stared at the ceiling. He just wanted one more adventure, one more escape before facing the real world. He knew it was pointless, because nothing ever happened to him. As he shut his eyes, he wished for one more miracle to take place.


	2. Chapter 1

Sherlock Holmes watched from his perch on the roof as the couple left the house. They were in their early to mid-forties. From what he could see, they had been married for over a decade.

"He's too old for that sort of thing. When I was his age, I never spent time with little kids." The man's voice was loud and annoying.

"Yes, dear, but he's only being a good older brother."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the dull conversation. The pixie fluttered next to him.

"Ready to go, Molly?" he asked. She nodded. "Good, me too."

They flew into the open window and landed softly on the floor. "You search over there," he whispered, pointing to the right side of the bedroom. "I'll begin over here."

Sherlock crawled on the carpet, searching under the cabinet. "It's not here! Any luck, Molly?" Her bell-like voice told him that she hadn't found it either. He stood and she flew to his side. "Maybe if we check the drawers..." He opened one and the pixie flew inside. The room was suddenly filled with light. Sherlock slammed the drawer shut, freezing as he looked to his left. A boy was staring at him from his bed, his hand by his lamp.

"Who are you?" he asked quietly.

"Sherlock Holmes." The boy's mouth dropped.

"Are you really?"

"Yes."

"Wow," the boy whispered in awe.

"And who are you?" Sherlock asked.

"My name's John Watson," he said as he climbed out of the covers. "You're really him."

Sherlock smiled. "Surprised?"

"Yes, actually," said John, walking to Sherlock. "I was told that you didn't exist."

"But here I am."

"Yes, here you are." John was now standing in front of Sherlock. His pyjamas were a size too big, making him appear small, but the way he held himself told Sherlock that he was a fighter. "You look younger than I imagined."

"Really?" asked Sherlock. "Why's that?"

"You're incredibly smart, so I guess that's why I thought you'd be older. How old are you?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know."

"I've been like this forever. I don't grow up!"

"Lucky. You look like you're fourteen."

"Nobody ages in Neverland," Sherlock paused. "You're about fourteen too, am I correct?"  
>"Yes, that's something that we have in common. Wait, what are you doing here?"<p>

"Oh!" Sherlock had completely forgotten. "Well, last time I was here-"

"You've been here before?" John interrupted.

"Yes, I sit on the roof outside your window."

"Why do you do that?"  
>"I like to listen to you tell stories."<p>

John smiled. "The stories about you."

"Yes, though they're fantasy, they're actually quite nice to listen to. I noticed that you added a character to them."

The blond boy blushed. "Well, my brothers wanted me to be somebody, and I didn't exactly want to be a villain, so I put myself in the story."

"Fascinating. I lost my scarf," Sherlock said bluntly. He scanned John's face and was surprised when it had a look of recognition.

"Is it blue?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"I saw my mum with it a few nights ago. Why didn't you come back for it then?"

"I tried," Sherlock confessed, "but your window was locked, and your dog kept barking at me whenever I tried to open it."

"That's Mrs. Hudson," explained John. "Her bed's downstairs, so she must have seen you from one of the windows down there."

"She's very protective of you. Anyways, where's my scarf?"

"I'll get it," John said as he moved to the cabinet. He rested his hand upon one of the drawers. "I think it was this one."

He pulled the knob and leaped back with a yelp as Molly flew at his face. Sherock couldn't help but laugh at the scene. "Molly, no, that's enough, Molly- John knows where my scarf is!"

The pixie's eyes widened before turning into a glare. She flew back to the drawer, and, with some difficulty, pulled out the scarf.

"Is that a pixie?" John asked, returning to the cabinet.

"Yes, this is Molly Hooper," Sherlock gestured to the pixie. "Molly, this is John..."

"Watson," finished John.

"Right! Molly, meet John Watson!" Molly crossed her arms and turned her head away from him. "Oh come on, Molly, I didn't forget about you!"

"Is she alright?" John asked.

"She'll be fine. I think she's jealous."

At this Molly yanked one of his curls before flying to the other side of the bedroom.

"I'm sorry," said John.

Sherlock looked up. "For what?"

"For making your pixie mad."

"She's not _my_ pixie. We just sort of wander around together. She may stop whenever she wants and leave me."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"No, why should it?"

"That just sounds lonely."

"It is what it is, John." An idea flashed into Sherlock's head. "Say, why don't you come with me?"

"What?"

"To Neverland!"

"You're joking."

"C'mon, it will be an adventure! Didn't you say that you wanted to have adventures?"

"You heard that?"

"Yes, of course, your window was open. I heard everything."

"Look, I don't know if I should-"

"It could be dangerous..."

A grin broke out on John's face. "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Take me to Neverland."


	3. Chapter 2

Sherlock smiled as he tied his scarf around his neck. "I'm glad that you're coming with me," he said. "You'll find it's much more exciting over there. Don't you agree that London's so dull?"

"It can be, yeah," John nodded. His head quickly turned to a scraping sound behind his bedroom door.

"Who's there?" Sherlock asked, flying to the door. Greg and Mycroft fell into his room when the door was opened. "Sneaks!"

"It's all Greg's fault!" Mycroft said, pointing his finger at his young brother.

"Was not!"

"I presume that these are your young brothers," said Sherlock.  
>"Who's he?" Greg asked.<p>

"He's Sherlock Holmes!" John answered.

"Hello, Sherlock," Mycroft said, "My name is Mycroft."  
>"And I"m Greg," added Greg.<p>

Sherlock gave them a brief smile before facing John. "Are you ready to go?"

"Go where?" Greg asked.

"Sherlock's taking us to Neverland," John explained.

"Us?" asked Sherlock.

"I can't leave Greg and Mycroft. They're just kids."

"Well, alright then," Sherlock drawled. "I guess they can come. Let's go!"

"But Sherlock," John said, "how do we get to Neverland?"

"We fly, of course."

"Fly?" asked Mycroft. "But that's impossible."

"This is impossible?" Sherlock leaped into the air, and, to John's amazement, began to circle around the ceiling.

"That was brilliant," John said when Sherlock returned to the floor.

"Really?" Sherlock seemed surprised.

"Yeah."

Sherlock smiled. "Thanks."

"I want to do that!" said Greg, jumping up and down.

"It's easy," said Sherlock. "Just go to your mind palace and think of a happy thought."

"Wait, your what?" asked John.

"Your mind palace," Sherlock explained. He looked slightly insulted as Greg and Mycroft continued to give him confused looks. John could only assume that his face looked like his brothers. "The place where you store information."

"Okay," John said slowly, "so we're just supposed to think of a memory, and we'll fly?"

"It doesn't have to be a memory," Sherlock continued. "It has to be a happy thought. Anything that makes you happy!"

"I'll think of cake!" Mycroft said as he climbed onto the bed.

"And I'll pretend I'm on holiday," added Greg, joining his brother on the mattress.

"And do you have your memory?" Sherlock asked John. He shut his eyes. He could see himself fighting criminals around the world, never growing up. That was a very happy thought. John nodded, and took his place on his bed with his brothers.

"Now, on the count of three, think of your happy thought and jump," instructed Sherlock. "One, two, three!"

John jumped, only to find himself in a pile on the floor with Mycroft and Greg.

"That's odd," pondered Sherlock. "It should have- oh."

"What went wrong?" John asked, pulling himself off of Greg.

"Pixie dust. I can't believe I forgot pixie dust!"

"What?"

Sherlock jumped and flew to the opposite side of the room. "Molly? No, Molly, I haven't been ignoring you. I just need you for a moment."

"Who's he talking to?" Greg asked John.

"Molly Hooper," said John. "She's a pixie."

Sherlock flew back to them, holding the petite sprite in his hands. "Pixie dust helps you fly."

"So the happy thoughts are pointless?" asked Mycroft, using his umbrella to help him stand up.

"No, of course not," Sherlock said. "Happy thoughts are one of the many components, along with faith and trust. Now hold still!"

Sherlock moved to shake the pixie dust over each of the heads, and John found himself on the receiving end of her glare. "That won't hurt her, will it?"

"No, she'll be fine," he answered, sprinkling the dust over his head. John felt his feet leave the floor.

"That's amazing!" John did a flip in the air, laughing at how light he was. Mycroft soon joined him, followed by Greg.

"Follow me!" called Sherlock, soaring out the window. John flew after him, smiling as he saw the starry night.

"Good-bye Mrs. Hudson!" Greg yelled. John turned around and saw his brothers wave farewell to the trusted companion.

John had never felt so alive before. His entire life had been filled with rules, but now he knew what it was like to be free. After a few minutes of flying, Sherlock stopped, hovering hundreds of feet off the ground. "See that star?" he asked, pointing to a large bright star. John nodded. "To get to Neverland, go to the second star to the right, and straight on 'til morning! Now let's go!"


	4. Chapter 3

The children traveled for several days and nights. John tried to keep track of how long they had been flying, only to lose track around day six. Greg and Mycroft bickered about whether they'd crossed this sea or landmark before, and John would try to give them a reasonable answer, though he was just as unsure. Sherlock and Molly led the way, soaring up and down above the clouds. John never stopped being amazed at the fact that they really were flying. He and Sherlock occasionally talked during their journey, but the latter normally kept quiet and to himself. For meals, Sherlock taught the brothers how to take food from the birds. It was very tricky, but they began to become skilled hunters. They drank water from the clouds. Learning how to fly while sleeping was dangerous. Greg had nearly dropped to the sea when he first tried, so supervision was vital. Sherlock had saved him, but had waited until the last moment. He said that he wanted to experiment with how fast he could fly. John noticed that Sherlock didn't eat or sleep very often. When he asked his new friend, he was told that sleeping and eating slowed him down, and he thought best on an empty stomach.

Sherlock also had the habit of forgetting he had companions. On many occasions, he would turn around and say "Oh! I forgot all about you lot. Who are you?"

"I'm John," John would answer.

"Oh, right. John. Keep telling me that and I'll remember. How long have you been following me?" John was patient with him, even though his brothers began to doubt.

"What if he flies ahead and forgets us permanently?" Mycroft asked as they crossed another body of water.

"He won't," John answered. "I trust that he won't."

"We could always turn around and fly home though, couldn't we?" asked Greg.

"I'm not sure I remember the way," John said truthfully. "We just have to keep trusting Sherlock."

"I'm starting to think that we'll never get to Neverland," Mycroft said, clutching his umbrella close to him.

"We will, don't worry."

Sherlock slowed down so that the brothers would catch up. "Do you see it?"

"See what?" John asked.

"Neverland!"

John looked down at where the clouds were parted and felt a smile form on his face. Below him was a beautiful island, glimmering in the sunlight.

"Mycroft, there's the mermaid lagoon!"

"Look at the turtles, John!"

"And there's a peacock with broken feathers!"

"Greg, there's the camp of the Homeless Network!"

Sherlock was a little annoyed that they knew so much about the island. He felt a twinge of fear mixed with excitement as his eyes found the pirate ship off the coast.

"Would you like to go on an adventure now, or would you rather have tea first?" he asked John.

"Well, it'd be nice to have something warm to drink," John answered, "so tea first."

"What kind of adventure?" Mycroft asked.

Sherlock grinned. "How would you boys like to see some pirates?"


	5. Chapter 4

John gulped at the word 'pirates'. "Are you talking about Moriarty?" he asked.

"Of course I am," Sherlock answered. "Who else would I be talking about?"

John shrugged. "So you've met him several times?"

"Only on a few special occasions. I cut off his hand the last time."

"Which one?"

"His right."

"But doesn't that mean that he won't be able to fight?"

Sherlock smirked. "Oh no, he's left handed. I had to keep some things fair. Normally he doesn't like to fight at all. He's got his men to do that for him. His first mate Seb Moran is particularly dangerous. He'll shoot anything without a warning."

"That's awful."

"Is it? Oh, that reminds me. I need you and your brothers to swear to something."

"What is it?" Greg asked.

"If we meet Moriarty, leave him to me."

"But what if-"

"No, John. He's the greatest criminal in existence, and I'm the only person who could stop him. Swear to it."

John sighed. "Fine. I swear."

"I do too," Mycroft added.

"I swear I won't," concluded Greg.

The sky began to darken around them, and Molly's light became more noticeable. She flew around the children in circles, making John smile.

"Why are you smiling?" Sherlock asked.

"It's just nice, that's all," said John.

"No, it's not nice. Molly's light could be seen by the pirates, and I've told you that Moran is a very good shot."

"Well, can't we just get rid of her?" asked Mycroft.

"No, she thinks that we're lost, and she's frightened. Why would I send Molly away if she's scared?"

"Tell her to put out her light then," Greg suggested.

"She can't just put out her light like that. It only happens when she's sleepy."

"Could she fall asleep now?" John asked.

"Molly's not sleepy, John. Do you fall asleep when you're wide awake? No."

"Why can't you put her in your coat pocket?" asked Mycroft.

Sherlock's face was unreadable. "Oh. I suppose I could do that. Molly?"

Molly shook her head. "She only wants to if somebody is holding my coat and not wearing it. That would work, though I won't be the one to hold it. I like my hands to be free. John, would you mind-"

"No, not at all," John said, taking Sherlock's coat. Molly stomped her foot in the air, but flew into the open pocket anyway. Inside, her light was completely hidden.

"Let's move on then," said Sherlock. "We'll have to be quiet as we fly back to camp, and then I'll introduce you to the Lost Boys."

Sherlock put a finger to his lips and the boys began to slowly descend to the island.

* * *

><p>Captain James Moriarty was bored. The calmness of the sea was dreadful. He leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on his writing desk. Waiting for his plans to develop was so tediously boring, but when they finally enfolded, everything was so much fun.<p>

"Sir?"

Moriarty turned and saw Seb Moran standing in his doorway. "Any news, Seb?"

"None at the moment, sir," Moran said as he took a seat on top of a barrel.

"So no word from our little informant," Moriarty said, taking an apple from a basket. "That's unfortunate, very unfortunate. Apple, Seb?"

"No thank you, sir."

"How about a story then?"Moriarty asked while he began to carve the fruit.

"A story, sir?"

"I never told you how I got this," he gestured towards the hook on his right arm. "It's not a secret exactly, it just gets boring if I tell it over and over again. Sherlock Holmes is the reason why I have this hook. He cut it off himself. He's awfully good with a sword, if I do say so myself. He's my equal. He knew what steps I was going to take, and I knew his responses. This time, he was one step ahead of me. Sherlock Holmes cut off my hand and fed it to a crocodile that was swimming by."

"I've wondered about your fear of the creatures."

"I don't dislike all crocodiles. Just that one. It wants the rest of me, Seb. Lucky for me, I can hear it. It had also swallowed a clock, and that clock ticks."

"The ticking might catch up to you, sir."

"No, it won't. The ticking clock isn't meant for me. Oh no, those ticks and tocks count down the time until I kill Sherlock Holmes. The time just isn't right yet."

"Well, to get your mind off of this, why don't we find the Lost Boys? I can introduce them to Johnny Remington."

Moriarty chuckled. "As amusing as it is that you've named your weapons, I don't think that would be very wise to try to find them tonight. The Homeless Network would be after us in a heartbeat."

"Just a suggestion, sir."

"I know, Seb. I just wish I wasn't so bored!" Moriarty threw the apple into the air. Moran reacted quickly and shot it. "Nice shot."

"Thank you, sir."

Moriarty put his head on his desk and sighed. Sherlock Holmes hadn't been seen in days, and without him as a distraction, he didn't have a constant source of amusement. As much as he hated him, Moriarty hoped that he hadn't died. He wanted to be the person to kill Sherlock Holmes.

Jeff Hope ran down the stairs. "Sir, Sherlock Holmes has been sighted!"

Moriarty lifted his head up. "Has he now?"

"Yes, sir!."

Moriarty ran up the steps and looked through his telescope on deck. Sherlock really was flying above him, and he was joined by three companions.

"Seb?" he said as Moran joined him.

"Yes, sir?"

"Take aim at Sherlock's little friends," he ordered. "Don't hit them right away. I want them to be afraid first."

Moran grinned. "Yes, sir."

* * *

><p>The make-believe world of John, Mycroft, and Greg became real when the first shot was fired.<p>

"What was that?" John yelled.

"They've found us," said Sherlock.

"What do we do now?" Greg asked.

A second shot answered him. The boys scattered apart in the night sky. Mycroft and Greg were left alone in the darkness.

"Are you alright?" Greg whispered.

"I'm fine," Mycroft said quietly, treading the air. "I see that you haven't been shot."

"No. Where are John and Sherlock?"

"I don't know."

The air had pushed Sherlock far back to the sea, while John was pushed high into the sky with only Molly to accompany her. All would have been well if Molly didn't hate John. She wasn't a bad fairy; fairies could only fit one emotion in their bodies at a time. Normally, she was a very good fairy, but tonight her mind was filled with jealousy. Molly wasn't used to sharing attention, and an idea to get rid of Sherlock's new favorite came to her. Molly flew out of the pocket and pointed down.

"Do you want me to follow you?" John asked softly.

Molly nodded and began to fly to the island, returning when John didn't follow. He called out for his brothers and Sherlock, but was only answered with echoes. "Alright, I'll come with you."

John flew with the fairy, completely oblivious that she intended to send him to his doom.


	6. Chapter 5

While John and Molly flew to the island, the Lost Boys were searching the sky for their leader. They kept quiet so they wouldn't be heard by the pirates. The pirates themselves were being sought after by the Homeless Network, but none of the groups ran into each other in this chain.

Leading the boys tonight was Mike. Mike was a round little boy who wore glasses. He hadn't been in as many adventures as the other boys, only because he was collecting firewood when the real excitement happened. Mike didn't let this get to him, however, and he was the kindest of the gang.

Next in line was Dimmock, and he was followed by Wilkes. Wilkes was the most conceited in the group as he believed he could remember his days before Neverland. Henry was fourth. Poor Henry, he always got himself into trouble. Last in line were the twins, Soo Lin and Zhi Zhu. Even though they were fraternal and of the opposite sex, Sherlock always called them 'Twins'.

The Lost Boys had nearly circled the island when they heard a loud noise. All six children ducked into the tall grass and waited. Soon a second shot was fired.

"Pirates," whispered Dimmock.

"Do you think they shot Sherlock?" asked Henry.

"No, they couldn't have," said Wilkes. "You know Sherlock's too clever to be caught."

"But what if he was hurt?" Henry was becoming very nervous and shivered.

"He'll be fine," Mike said. "Sherlock will escape; he always does."

The Lost Boys continued to wait. After several minutes, Dimmock sat up and stared at the sky. "There's a bird flying here!" he said with excitement.

"A bird?" asked Soo Lin.

"Yes, it's a big bird," Dimmock continued. "It looks very tired. And it's crying 'poor john'."

"Poor john?" Mike asked.

"I think I remember that there are birds called johns," said Wilkes.

"There it is!" cried Henry, pointing to the sky.

John was now flying close to the Lost Boys, and they could hear his sad cry. Molly was no longer pretending to be friendly, and pinched him every time they touched.

"Hi Molly!" the children shouted.

"Sherlock wants you to shoot the John!" she answered.

"Let's do it then!" said Wilkes, motioning the Boys back to their home to get weapons. Only Mike remained because he was carrying his bow and arrow.

"Do it, Mike!" Molly said excitedly. "Shoot the John! Make Sherlock proud!"

"Move Molly!" Mike aimed his bow and let go of the string.

John fell from the sky, an arrow in his shoulder.

* * *

><p>Mike triumphantly stood by John's body as the other children gathered around them.<p>

"I did it!" he said. "I shot the bird!"

"This isn't a bird, Mike," said Wilkes. "This is a boy."

"He's not moving," added Soo Lin.

Mike's face fell. "And I killed him. Molly said to shoot him!"

"Sherlock was bringing somebody to take care of us, and we killed her," Henry said before falling to the ground in tears.

"What do we do when he comes back?" asked Dimmock.

"Hide him," Wilkes said, gesturing towards a pile of leaves. "We can cover him with those leaves."

The children covered John with the leaves and exchanged grave glances with each other. "Sherlock should be here soon," sniffled Henry as they sat down.

"Well, I shouldn't disappoint you then."

The children turned their heads and saw Sherlock descend from the air. "I brought a new companion for you. His name's John. He should be here soon-" Sherlock stopped and focused his attention on the leaves. "What are you hiding?"

Mike rose and beckoned Sherlock to him. "I'll show you." The twins refused to move. "Get back, twins, he has to know."

They uncovered John's body and Sherlock gasped. "Whose arrow is this?"

"Mine," Mike said quietly.

Sherlock studied the body and carefully removed the arrow. He sat next to John and put a hand on his wrist. A smile twitched upon his lips. "Stupid," he muttered.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock, I really am." said Mike.

"No, you're all so stupid," Sherlock said. "Did any of you think to check his pulse?"

"What?" asked Dimmock, stepping near them.

John began to stir and the Lost Boys gasped. "He's alive," Sherlock said, beaming.

"How?" Henry asked as a smile replaced his tears.

"The arrow only struck his shoulder," explained Sherlock, "and it will heal in time. The fall from the sky knocked him out. C'mon, John. Wake up!"

John continued to stir, and a light crying sound was heard from the trees.

"It's Molly," said Dimmock. "She's upset that John isn't dead."

"Molly!" Sherlock said, standing up. "I no longer consider you to be a friend. Leave!"

The pixie flew onto his shoulder and begged, but Sherlock didn't listen. He merely flicked her away and returned his attention to John, who had just raised his arm. "Well, not forever. A whole week!" Molly flew into the trees, her sobs heard by the children.

John blinked his eyes open, and a sigh of relief escaped the mouths of the Lost Boys. "My arm hurts," he said plainly. "Why does my arm hurt?"

"You were shot by an arrow, John," said Sherlock. "It will all be fine in good time."

John nodded and looked around him. "Who are they?"

"These are the Lost Boys. Mike, Dimmock, Henry, Wilkes, and Twins."

"Did you adopt them?"

"Did I what?"

"Adopt them," John repeated. "My parents adopted me, Mycroft, and Greg."

"No, we're not siblings," Sherlock said.

"He's our leader," Mike chipped in.

"Well, it's very good to meet you all."

Greg and Mycroft soon floated down to the ground, their eyes filled with sleep. "Sherlock?" Greg asked, squinting his eyes in the dark.

"Yes, we're here," Sherlock answered.

"Oh thank goodness," said Mycroft, walking towards the group. "We thought we'd lost you. What happened to John's arm?"

"Oh, it's nothing," said Sherlock before John could talk. "Should we move to the house for tea before bed?"

"Where do you live, Sherlock?" asked John.

"Right over there," Sherlock pointed. He gave John his arm and helped him stand.

"Will we start having adventures tomorrow?"

"John, the adventure has already begun."


End file.
